Killer Unmasked
by Ami Kidd
Summary: Who is the man behind the mask? and what is his story? The events in Killer's life that leads him to join Eustass Kid and the journey the two go through as the make their way through the grand line. Rewritten.
1. Regretful Beginnings

**A/N:** Hello! Here is the long awaited rewritten version It's been what a year? I'm sorry... Anyways I changed some parts due to the new information and chapters. I want to stay as canon as possibly but I planned everything based on what I only know as of now. I will try my hardest to update at least every other week but I'm very moody when it comes to writing.

**Warnings: **OOCness in the beginning and probable OOCness throughout most of the chapters, boyxboy (maybe... most likely... In later chapters), language and slow updates

**Disclaimer****:** One Piece characters belong to Oda. This is merely a fanfic :P

Thank you for reading, enjoy!

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"We might have bad intentions but at least we're honest about it right Killer?"

"Definitely"

* * *

Marie was captured and sold as a slave twenty-six years before the start of the main story line. The young twelve year old girl with beautiful golden hair was bought by Abaliene Johannes, one of the prominent Celestial Dragons. She worked hard everyday, did what was asked and never asked questions. At the age of fourteen, she became his main attendant, following him on his travels to other blues. Marie held on to the hope that someday, someone would come and free her, but on that one fateful day when Fisher Tiger freed the slaves at Mariejois while she sailed miles away through North Blue, Marie felt that fire within her vanquish. At the age of seventeen her work started slacking, she couldn't get past a day without a beating. Although a slave, Marie grew very beautiful, her body filled out and her pale skin still retained the youth that should have been long lost to the pangs of slavery. It was also at the age of seventeen that Johannes took her innocence. The process was a blur, much like the last five years of her life had been; she no longer cared for anything, not since she missed the chance of being free. Marie finally gave up living when she turned eighteen, giving birth to Johannes's child.

Cleland was born on the second of February. His lineage was never contemplated by himself because it didn't matter, all that held importance was the blue blood coursing through his veins, giving him his birthrights. He grew up like all other noble children, being spoiled and demanding. He treated his slaves like trash, disposing them whenever he got tired of them and never giving it a second thought.

It was on the boy's tenth birthday, a big day for all Celestial children: gifts from every blue, slaves that will only serve them, exquisite dishes that could feed an entire country – a majority of it, though, was tossed away, along with other trash and unwanted gifts.

Cleland stared at himself in his prize, large eight foot mirror, which he received on his last birthday, he couldn't look any better for his special day. The young boy, unlike most deformed nobles that resulted from incestuous breeding, had a pretty face, inherited from his mother. From head to toe covered in gold, diamonds and other pretty jewels, he turned slowly, staring at the reflection in the mirror. _Perfection_. The vain child thought. He would've kept staring at himself if he hadn't heard the knock on his door, which had followed three other more quiet knocks.

"What?!" Cleland said with impatience. Who would dare interrupt him?

The door slowly opened and the head of a lowly slave peeked through the crack. The boy clicked his tongue in annoyance at the sight of the dirty human.

"Why are you disturbing me?" He glared at the slave through his helmet that guarded him from breathing the same air as that thing. "It better be good."

The slave, a pitiful looking young girl, gulped, afraid to answer her master.

"Your father wanted me to check on you." She said in a small voice, barely above a whisper, not daring to make eye contact with the noble.

"He could've sent one of the guards instead of this lowly slave." He said, annoyed, to no one in particular. Glaring at the girl one more time, he turned back to the mirror and admired himself a little more.

He almost missed the small voice that trembled in fear.

"Sir?"

He made an annoyed grunt, hoping the stupid human would leave. The girl stood there for a few minutes, shifting uncomfortably on her bare feet, waiting for about twenty minutes before repeating: "sir?"

She waited awhile before repeating again and again, gradually increasing her volume until the young boy turned around impatiently and looked at her.

"What?" He hissed through gritted teeth. The slave looked around, staring at everything but the vain child, stuttering as she spoke.

"I-if there's nothings wrong…." She looked uncomfortably at the ground then the mirror behind the boy, "y-your father said he would like to s-speak with you."

Cleland only glared at her, making the frightened child wonder if her words fell on deaf ears. She opened her mouth about to repeat herself when the young boy struck her across the face, shoving her into the hallway.

"Get out of my way." The boy spat before walking to his father's study.

Cleland didn't even knock before entering his father's study. Johannes looked up to see his boy.

"There's the birthday boy." He smiled at his child. Cleland was Johanne's favorite out of five children. His son had not only beauty but also intelligence, hard traits found in any Celestial Dragon.

"What is it father?" The boy inquired with eagerness, knowing that his father must have something to give to him.

"I have a present for you." _He was right._ "I wanted to give it to you a little early." The man snapped his fingers and his guards brought forth a slave.

"I thought you needed a grand entrance and what better way than riding on the back of a slave? Of course we'll clean him up before your party."

The man was of average build, dark skin and dark hair, he stared vacantly at the child before him.

"It's perfect Father." Cleland smiled, returning the man's vacant stare with his bright blue eyes.

The party was grand like all his previous parties. The child got whatever he wanted that he did not already have before, his favorite dishes were prepare, all exquisite, and the most famous singers performed for his party. The great clock in the mansion struck eleven before the crowd started to thin out. The slaves forced to work through the night, cleaning up the entire house, secretly hoarding the luxurious food that could satisfy their always hungry stomachs.

"I'm tired. I'm going to sleep now." The boy told his father and with that he left as he had entered, sitting grandly on his new slave, who had been scrubbed as clean as lowly humans can be.

When he entered the room the same filthy girl that had disrupted him still stood there.

"Why are you polluting my room with your filth?" The boy demanded. He stared at the filth, his annoyance increasing by the second.

_Disgusting. _The boy thought before taking out his pistol– every noble, young and old, held one– and pointing it at the young girl. The gun fired.

Cleland, lying on his back, stared perplexed by the pair of vacant dark eyes he was staring into, the bullet missed and shattered his beautiful eight foot mirror. The boy wanted to yell at the filthy slave for touching him but was stopped short by the light reflecting off one of the dinner knives held in the older man's hand.

"She's just a small child like you. Why can't you monsters see that?" Said a hoarse voice, one that hadn't been used in ages, silenced by sadness and oppression. Fright and terror took over the boy as the man raised the knife higher and higher.

"We're just people. I have three kids and a wife on Kiyoshi Island that I want to return to, but I can't because I'm imprisoned here to be a slave!" Anger brought a fierceness back to the vacant eyes that stared him down and his grip on the knife tightened. "If only you nobles didn't exist in this world!" The light flickered as the knife was brought down. Cleland shut his eyes, his heart stopping, and images of his life flashed through his mind. A moment passed before the boy felt blood slowly trickle down his cheek and realized he was still breathing. Opening his eyes, Cleland saw the man bent over him, crying, releasing tears that he had long suppressed.

"I'm.. not like you." The man whispered in a defeated voice. "You monsters."

Cleland screamed.

. . .

The next day, the crowd cheered as the slave's head came off while Cleland stared uninterested in the event.

"Don't worry my boy." His father, sitting next to him, said. "We'll get you a more obedient slave."

The son looked at his father, seeing vaguely that something that made them "monsters," yet unable to fully grasp it.

"I don't want one." Replied the boy, getting up and leaving. "I'm tired."

The boy walked home, glancing around at the glamorous buildings that made up Mariejois, which only seemed fictitious to Cleland now. The slaves and servants greeted the young master as he entered his mansion, as they usually did. A greeting that use to make the boy feel superior only annoyed him now. He brushed off all the servants that try to attend him, walking to his room by himself. Before reaching his room, a certain filthy girl, scrubbing the floors, caught his eyes. The girl could feel the presence of the boy, but didn't dare to stop her work or look at the boy, sweat starting to form on her forehead from the pressure.

"What makes us alike?" The boy asked without the usual edge or impatience in his voice.

The girl didn't know how to respond or if the question was even directed at her. Without even glancing at the boy, she kept scrubbing, harder than before, making her small work-roughened hands red.

"I'm a descendant of the creators and you're just a human." He continued, without any signs of annoyance at his previous unanswered question. He wasn't hoping for an answer. He wanted to say his thoughts, but he felt ridiculous talking to a slave and continued to make his way to his room, almost missing the small voice that whispered.

"They say your mother was a slave too." The boy turned to look at the young girl who had stopped her work, sitting there returning his stare, and smiled weakly. "Maybe that's what makes us alike."

"Liar…" Cleland breathed before striking the girl and storming off to his room. He realized he wasn't really looking for an answer. No. Knowing only shone a light on the cold hard truth, "supreme," "Celestial being," all that he was raised to believe, all of it, untrue. A small connection forming, linking him to these filthy slaves, that he was raised to believe as inferior. All he could do that day was sit and stare at himself through his shattered mirror, the shards distorting him, never had he felt so truly reflected, deform and ugly, a _monster._ He touched the wound on his cheek that would never heal completely, always reminding him of… himself, an ugly mark on the face of the earth. He constantly– absentmindedly– touch the scar on his face with the words of the small girl repeating constantly in his mind.

"Mother was a slave. That's what makes us alike."

. . .

"Who was my mother?" Cleland asked his father one day, interrupting whatever it was Celestial Dragons did in their study.

"What does it matter my boy? She died a long time ago."

Cleland continued to stand there, trying to form his words, afraid that speaking them will bring about the reality of the situation.

"I heard that she was a slave."

"And who told you that?" His father looked at him intently.

"The small slave girl that scrubs the floors."

"Well worry not my son, you have blue blood running through your veins."

"Yes father." Cleland sighed, defeated, knowing he won't get any answers.

The boy left with just as many questions as be had when he entered. Not knowing was probably better, he could erase all those thoughts and continue to live his happy, spoiled life. Well, until another event that happened.

Cleland never thought about the consequences of the words he spoke, not until he saw the guards carrying out the dead body of a small filthy slave. He couldn't actually see the body, the white sheet covering the horrors beneath it, but he knew, he _just knew_ the fragile frame of the girl, the smallness, and the dirty bare feet that dangled from the stretcher. His reality didn't shatter like his mirror that was shattered on a day that felt so long ago– yet only a few days had passed since. No. Like a small crack that goes unnoticed, his life slowly broke and withered as time passed and after that sight, never the same to him anymore. Days went by in a blur, blending with the madness he lived in until suddenly, Cleland found himself on one side of a gun, his father's dead body stared him down from the other side. The slaves around him stood there, not knowing what to do.

"Leave…"

The slaves still stood in shock, unable to move.

"I said LEAVE! Get out! Be free!"

Everything was moving too fast, the room felt like it was spinning and tears started rolling down his cheeks… tears of what? Of lost for a loved one? Of the guilt for murder? Of atonement for saving the slaves' lives? Or of relief for killing another monster like himself? The world didn't make sense, like everything else in his life after that one "grand" day.

The Next Day it was announced all over the media. A slave breakout happened in the Abaliene household. Abaliene Johannes was killed and Abaliene Cleland was missing.

The twelve year old boy became an icon all over the Grand Line: a victory against the nobles, an innocent lamb lost in the crossfires, a treasure that if found would restore lost pride. At every corner, the picture of the young boy was posted, feminine, pale skinned, with shoulder-length blonde hair and distant blue eyes that only seemed trapped in that bubble of a helmet the Celestial Dragons wore.


	2. Where It All Began

**A/N: **Chapter 2 out already woo! Don't expect me to always update this fast though. Anyways enjoy!  
Also thanks for reading and reviewing. I always appreciate it :)

* * *

Cleland wandered around, ship hopping through the Grand Line, trying his best to get as far away from Mariejois, from himself– a monster. His helmet was long dispose of and he lost weight from the small portioned food he managed to steal. Cleland's hair grew longer, covering his eyes that had become more sunken, more vacant, paralleling the vast ocean he traveled, lost and distant. His name no longer held any importance, only a reminder of his once high status of an identity, he changed names every now and then, but couldn't remember any of the false names. Facing pirates and the harsh, unstable weather on the Grand Line made the lost boy strong, strong enough to take on small time pirates that bothered him and marine officers that tried to help him. He also became more mature than any boy his age would be, having a new understanding of society and an ability to analyze situations and people. On his twelfth birthday, his travels lead him to Kiyoshi Island, a small island in South Blue, where it had all began.

The small light that hid in the cracks were the only hint that morning had come. The young child could hear the soft murmurs of the workers. When the doors of the ship opened, he ran. He ran as far as his tired legs could take him, down the paths of the town, unaware of the stares from locals, and into the forest. He ran along side the river that hardly streamed. He ran until he reached the top of a cliff that overlooked the inhabited area, looking and taking in everything. It was beautiful. Simple yet peaceful, plain yet real, nothing like the fictitious magnificent buildings of a land so far away.

Everything at that one moment hit him like a wave, the knife that glimmered before scarring his face, the dangling bare feet that belonged to a small girl, his father's dead body, the days going by in a blur, the murderer and monster he _is_, the events that forever changed his life.

The built up frustration overwhelmed him and he broke down crying. His tears weren't that of a child who broke his toy, but of a man chained by guilt, needing some sort of redemption to free him from misery.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I killed you and left your children fatherless, I'm sorry I'm a terrible person, a monster, a murderer, I'm Sorry."

All he could do is cry. Cry for his helplessness, cry for his guilt, cry for his lost of humanity, cry for everything in his life that is wrong.

"Are you stupid?"

The boy immediately whipped his head around, looking for the owner of the voice that spoke again:

"If you're going to apologize to someone, you should say it to their face"

"What would you know?!" retorted the lost boy, wiping away the tears that blurred his vision.

He was surprised to find a scrawny short boy standing in front of him with red hair held up by a pair of round goggles. He looked about six or seven.

"So who you apologizing to?" His voice much too low to belong to a child so small.

"Nobody." The blonde boy replied, not wanting to discuss his problems with a kid. He got up and brushed off the dirt on his worn out pants before walking away. He didn't dare look but he felt the presence of the smaller child following him.

"Why are you following me kid?" The blonde muttered, still looking ahead.

He felt that the little boy had stopped walking, out of curiosity and contrary to instinct, he turned to look. The red headed boy look at him, eyes wide.

"How'd you know?" The younger kid questioned.

"Know what?"

"My name." The shocked kid started circling the older one, analyzing him. "Are you some kind of devil fruit user?"

The blonde was utterly speechless and it took him moments to form a proper reply.

"No I'm not… I just… guessed." He wasn't sure if he should tell the naïve boy that "kid" was a term used to call children. Kid stopped circling him and decided to walk closer, suspicion still in his eyes.

"My name is Eustass Kid. I'm eight years old and you?" The boy spoke, relaxing his face slowly.

"That's none of your business." He tried to say nicely but his voice, although weak and tired, came out defensive and snappish.

Kid's forehead wrinkled, making the blonde feel bad, but before an apology could be made Kid stuck his tongue out at the older kid and retorted:

"You're really rude. I thought girls were suppose to be gentle or something."

The ex-noble boy twitched at the remark. Was he really going to argue with a kid?

"I'm a boy." Apparently he was.

"What? Really? But you're all skinny and you have long hair and a pretty face like a girl." The boy, shocked, started circling him again, hands stretched out as if he were going to touch the older boy, but didn't. The blonde became irritable and couldn't control the comeback from escaping his throat.

"So what? You're the one to talk, you're skinny like a girl too." Now it was Kid's turn to snap.

"You don't know what you're talking about! Look at me, I'm the essence of manliness! You pretty faced, blonde headed sissy!"

The blonde boy could feel the anger rising, but before he could do anything the red head boy shoved him and ran away.

"The nerve of that kid, I'm not a girl…"

The blonde got up slowly, wiping off the dirt from his clothes. As the anger left him, the young boy couldn't stop the smile stretching across his face. Arguing with the small child made him realize how secluded he felt from others. No one had ever dared to talk to him that way, no had ever dared to talk to him at all for that matter. Although it was a silly childish fight, the significance it held for the ex-celestial dragon boy was almost more valuable than that one night on his birthday, _almost_. For the first time in his life, the child didn't feel the weight of his burdens. It felt refreshing, like he was a… kid again, a kid bathed in ignorance. He let out the small laugh that was in his throat. The laugh contained the innocence and purity of a child, one that grew up like any other normal happy child.

_What a brat._ _Hopefully I won't ever seen him again._ He thought, and with that he walked back toward the village, leisurely, giving himself the opportunity to take in his surroundings, unlike his previous hazy traveling.

. . .

The few moments of relief the young child felt became short-lived. After everything he experienced: the red-headed boy, the wonder of the country, he could feel the sorrows slowly creeping back into his life, threatening to take over. Although he wanted to be here, he didn't know where to go. Wandering the streets, familiarizing himself with the roads and alleys. A bakery, a grocery shop, a butcher shop, the market section he guessed. He continued to wander, going through the alleyways between different apartment buildings and walking further to the houses just outside of what he guessed to be downtown. The sun wasn't out but the air was hot and he felt like he was suffocating in the humidity. He continued walking, wandering around aimlessly, looking for a place where he could find sleep, a slow drizzle starting to fall on the land. No one offered him a place to sleep or something to eat; they all walked past him, occasionally staring at him.

As the streets emptied out and people packed up to go home, the boy felt sleepiness taking over. He eyelids were getting heavy, the small drizzle only made him more tired. He finally decided to sit next to a building that provided him only minimal protection from the increasing rain. It wasn't even 5:00 p.m. but the sky had already darkened and everyone was gone, in the comforts of their own home while the twelve year old sat in the now pouring rain, reflecting on his life and once again everything that is wrong with it. The only reasons he came here were to apologize to the family of that slave from years ago, hoping that the forgiveness would bring about some kind of freedom from his burdens, but even now that seemed ridiculous. How would he even find them? He didn't know a name or anything and so what if he did apologize? Would it really atone for the man's death? For the little girl? For the other slaves? Nothing in his life would change, redemption wouldn't come and neither would salvation. He felt cold and miserable, he didn't know where to go from here. He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his arms, closing his eyes, hoping that he could get some rest and wake up alive tomorrow.

"You really are stupid aren't you?"

The familiar voice only irritated the now soaked child, he didn't look up to respond.

"What do you want?" he sighed, not wanting to argue. Exhaustion wore him down and the cold rain that constantly fell only worsened his situation and made him irritable.

"What?" He repeated with more edge to his weak and tired voice, slowly lifting his head to look at the younger boy.

_…?_

He was surprised to see that small boy was holding out a worn-out umbrella, that barely accomplished its job, for him, covering the rain that he didn't realized had stopped soaking him.

"S-stupid! you're going to catch a cold, even if you are older… or a boy."

He didn't wait for the older boy to hold the umbrella before throwing it, hitting the blonde's head, and leaving.

The blonde couldn't respond fast enough, the words stopping short as the red-headed child ran and disappeared through the rain. Picking up the umbrella and rubbing his probably bruised face, he stared at the umbrella he now held and back to the spot where he had last seen the odd boy, the lost kid sat there, unable to fathom what had happened, anger and gratitude creating a new incomprehensible feeling with hunger and exhaustion only making it harder for him to think.

He tried to get rest, but his thoughts kept returning to the scrawny figure with his ragged clothes and ripped pants and the oddly, low voice that annoyed him.

_Eustass Kid… Hopefully I won't see him again._ He thought dismissively, a small smile on his face, before finally sleep took over him.


	3. The Boy Named Eustass Kid

**A/N:** I'm in a phase right now so chapters are coming out really fast, huzzah! Also, (stating this because it bothers mostly me haha.) Kid isn't really IC right now, but he'll change over time and plus this is mostly Killer's view of him.

Anyways thank you thank you thank you for reading and reviewing, makes me happy :)  
I hope you continue to enjoy!

**Side Note:** Clear water is a symptom of depleted nutrients. (Only mentioning this because of the amount of research I did on oligotrophic lakes etc., only for it to not be useful.)

* * *

The blonde woke up with a massive headache, his hand still clutched around the umbrella, although the rain had long stopped falling. The sun shone intensely, the heat strengthening the pounding in his head. His clothes had dried but left a sticky wet feeling on his body that seemed to weigh him down. He hid the umbrella in an alleyway, hoping it would still be there if he needed it and maybe return it to its rightful owner, _Eustass Kid._

The name kept creeping into his thoughts and without knowing it, the boy always found himself eavesdropping on conversations whenever the name Eustass Kid was brought up. The red headed boy became a topic of interest and the blonde boy tried to find out whatever he could about the red head.

_. . . _

It wasn't hard finding out about the boy. Apparently Kid was a main topic of conversation for bored housewives and drunk men in pubs, a topic that never tired out no matter how often it was repeated. He passed by and eavesdropped on such frequent conversations. There was a sort of resentment the blonde felt towards these gossipers, who talked of someone they didn't know, telling their personal tragedy as if it were some sort of tale, then spouting sympathetic bullshit like:

"If only he grew up properly."

"Why did he turn out like this?"

As if the child had control over his life, they could only criticize the troublemaker, disregarding their own influence on the outcome.

Through these blabbermouths, the blonde boy found out many things about the boy named Eustass Kid or "demon child" as they called him. He had been orphaned since about four or five, an untaught child who liked to cause trouble, who lived and survived on his own. The information only irritated the blonde, not only because of the accusing voices that shared the information but also because this red-headed boy now had a face, a face of a lonely ignored child that society labeled as "evil," a face that related so vaguely to his scarred one, and it only pissed him off. He stopped eavesdropping for more information, the voices only making him more irritable and causing the pounding in his head to grow stronger with each thump.

It was getting close to noon and the blonde boy was starved, he felt light headed, the heat and humidity didn't help his condition. He was too clumsy to steal anything right now and decided to go find something in the forest that bordered the town.

Coming to the river he had ran past when he first arrived, he saw how clear the water was, but still hoped to catch something. The blonde drank water from the river and _attempted_ to catch some fish, though there seemed to be an insufficient population, with his bare hands then with a pointed stick he found. The exertion only causing the sharp pain in his head to become more intense.

"Haha you suck at fishing! If you can even call that fishing."

It was too soon for the blonde to be hearing that now familiar voice. Kid walked closer to the blonde, standing next to him.

"Here!" he stuck his hand out "I'll teach you how to do it."

The blonde blinked his tired eyes and looked away, being taught by a child? Even he still had some pride.

"Hey don't ignore me! I'm trying to help you here!"

"Maybe I don't _want_ your help." He tried responding nonchalantly.

"Well maybe you _need_ it!"

"Brat."

"Sissy!"

The argument wasn't helping with the older boy's hunger. Every second that went by he felt more and more tired, and more and more hungry. Everything around him started to go blurry and the argument with the red head didn't seem to process in his head anymore.

"Hey are you alright?"

The world was spinning and everything was going dark

"Hey!"

. . .

Everything was quiet and although the boy couldn't see anything, he felt calm. He felt disconnected from that world where he only suffered from his own guilt. He wouldn't mind… Staying like this forever.

. . .

The smell of fish was appealing, causing his stomach to grumble, slowly lulling him from his sleep. When the blonde opened his eyes the orange sunlight was warm and he felt safe. The moments before he passed out swirled inside his head before it hit him. He got up immediately, the place surrounding him was foreign and odd. The greenery of the forest was replaced by dirty walls, and the smell of flowers replaced by metal and food.

The room he laid in was small and empty, decorated only by the blanket make-shift bed that the boy laid on. There were two small rooms connected to the one he was in, one he assumed was the kitchen due to the smell coming from it and the other he guessed to be the bathroom.

"Oh, you're awake…"

The red headed boy approached the blonde cautiously, placing a small plate of food in front of him, the plate was chipped and on it was only an inadequate portion of rice and a small fish that barely fed a person.

"Here… I got you some food…"

Kid stood there awkwardly as the blonde started eating the food, satisfying his hunger, even though the portion was small.

"Is it… good?"

The question seemed a little out of place and the blonde boy didn't know how to respond. Did the kid want a serious answer? Or was he being sarcastic? He got lost in his own thought, deciding how to answer while Kid's staring only made him uncomfortable.

"Uh… yeh… It's really good."

The blonde hoped that phrase would make the red head go away but instead the red headed boy came closer and sat down next to him. His hands gripped his rag of a shirt.

"Really? I caught the fish myself." He said with a big grin that seemed to impossibly take up his entire face. The blonde couldn't help thinking _how oddly adorably _he looked with that smile_._ Finishing his most satisfying meal in two weeks, the stranger looked at the little boy that sat next to him, although Kid didn't return the gaze and merely looked down at the floor. The older boy could see just how small this "demon child" was, seeming almost fragile. For an eight year old, he was much too small and underweight; a trait, the blonde assumed, due to malnutrition.

He tried to organized everything that was happening around him, finally forming his thoughts into a question.

"So where is this place?"

Kid looked around the room, before looking at the older boy with a smug expression on his face.

"This is my secret base" Kid said proudly

"And why am I here?"

The question made Kid ponder, and he, still sitting next to the older boy, stared at the walls while trying to form a coherent answer.

"W-well… um.. I thought that.. uh… you know"

"you know what?"

"Y-you know!"

"I really don't know. What do you mean?"

The blonde could feel his blood boil as it always did when he encountered Eustass Kid, but he tried being the more mature adult that he knew he was suppose to be.

Still sitting next to the older boy, Kid started fidgeting, his usual cheekiness and rudeness absent. His actions, which only made him look smaller, puzzled the older boy who he didn't understand at all what the boy wanted, unlike his usually bratty self, the small child seemed uncharacteristically _nervous_.

"…"

"…"

"L-listen! I don't have any parents… and you don't seem like you have parents either, so we should live here together. I'll look out for you and everything, we'll be best friends."

The blonde's eyes widened a little. Did the red head just ask him to be his friend? _Best friends_ at that. Why would the infamous "demon child" of Kiyoshi Island want to be friends, especially friends with someone such as himself; their encounters have been nothing but sassy remarks back and forth.

_Well I guess even Satan needs friends_ the blonde thought and immediately regretted the thought as he continued to evaluate Kid. He knew the boy to be younger than himself, but now that he got the chance, he truly saw just how small and helpless he looked. The clothes he wore were past the hand-me-down stage, torn and patched in different places and dirty from constant use. Although there was muscle obvious under the boys pale, almost transparent, skin, bones showed prominently. Moments, or what seemed like moments, passed before the older boy realized he was staring at Kid.

"Don't give me that look!" Kid said

"What look?"

"That 'poor little Kid!' look. Stop it alright? I'm not some helpless baby." Kid said with such defensiveness that the older boy started to understand the little mystery that was Kid. A child filled with loneliness, anger and hatred, only wanting at least one person that he could call a friend, someone to support him, someone to care for and _love_ him. He tried not to, but he couldn't help feeling sympathetic for Kid. The thought of not have anyone to take care of you when you were helpless was something he couldn't comprehend. He could only fathom the forlorn bitterness that could arise from such an upbringing.

"But why…"

"You?" the red head finished the sentence for him.

"Yeah…"

"L-listen carefully! I won't say it again!"

The blond boy nodded.

"You're older and you seem pretty smart and tough, even though I thought you were a girl." He added unnecessarily. "Plus, I know you won't judge me and all since you're new and everything, and I'm sure you don't care about the people here either. We could cause trouble together for those pretentious ass wipes and help each other out. I'll watch your back and you watch mine. In sickness and in health, for better of for worse, fo-"

The red headed boy was stopped by the blonde, who was holding his hand out.

"What?"

"I get your point." The boy wanted to avoid such proposals before he turned at least thirteen.

"So… what do you say? I'll make you food all the time and everything"

There was a long pause as the blonde sincerely thought about the boy's question. The idea sounded nice, he wouldn't be starving and cold all the time, and he wanted to accept, but the events of his past, that always stayed on the edges of his thoughts, played the devil's advocate. Could he truly just forget everything and play pranks with this child? With all that happened in his short life and all that he is, he couldn't even think about accepting. The boy got lost in his own thoughts, making the long pause longer and which to Kid seemed like forever.

"Sorry… I can't"

Kid wasn't sure if he had heard right; he was positive that the lost older boy would have accepted.

"Why not?!"

"… it's just that… I… I'm sorry"

With that the boy got up and left, leaving the eight year old dumb founded.

"Hey wait I'm not done talking!" Kid realized what was happening, trying to get up, stumbling on his small feet as the older boy walked away.

"I said wait!"


	4. Nameless

**A/N:** My longest chapter so far, yay! So~ I'm running out of juice but the next chapter will be out in three weeks at the latest, sorry but thank you for being patient.  
Anyways thank you for reading and reviewing thank you thank you! Enjoy!

* * *

It was dark, the sun had set and the blonde had no clue where he was, though none of that mattered. Replaying over and over in his head was the conversation he had earlier. Friends… a word that couldn't be processed by someone like himself. Him of all people? Nothing seemed to make much sense. The blonde couldn't possibly be friends with anyone, after all… would he even be a good friend? What is a good friend? How do you even be a regular friend?

Being flooded with these questions, the blonde realized how secluded and lonely his life had been. His whole life seemed like a path shrouded in darkness, he didn't know what to do from here.

The blonde realized that he was in a small junkyard, which was a few miles away from downtown. As he made his way towards the town, he could feel the throbbing pain in his head return and he still felt sickly muggy. By the time he arrived, the little food that fueled him was gone and the dizzy throbbing in his head intensified. The temperature dropped considerably as night grew impossibly darker. With the humidity seeping through his pores, only increasing the iciness, the boy's bones ached with cold. It made moving about harder and, as always, he didn't have a place to stay. He wandered through the bigger neighbors on the outer edge of town, making his way to the market place. He arrived at the market place before his aching body couldn't go any further and, with a defeated sigh, he chose to sit behind the bakery, knees up with his face buried in his arms.

After the exertion, his body throbbed with cold and hot, a battle of temperatures that only made his body ache more and the pounding in his head increase. His fingers felt frozen yet, underneath, his muscles stung with heat. The burning sensation in his lung made breathing the cold, wet air hard, in fact, it felt like the air turned to steam in his lungs, suffocating him. Hours seemed to go by and he was still awake. The uncomfortable clash of body temperatures versus outside temperatures kept him conscious. He felt like his body was fighting a war where the land eventually lies in waste. The dizziness he felt made him want to throw up, a feeling that only increased his suffocating.

"I found you."

Even though he was light headed, the familiar voice was penetrating.

"What?" the blonde replied, his agonizing state made him sound unpleasant.

"S-stupid! You're really sick! If you aren't treated soon you'll die!" The voice sounded sincerely concerned.

"Then let me die!"

The blonde didn't know whether it was the dizzy feeling, the physical pain the tiredness or just the entire journey but for the first time since his escape he felt that life didn't matter anymore, _he_ didn't matter anymore and even if he's gone it wouldn't matter. He wanted to return to that peaceful dark place he had been earlier that day, where the world didn't matter. That thought seemed to wash away everything at that moment, the pain, the guilt, the suffocating and, finally, sleep overcame the boy.

. . .

This time he didn't return to the tranquil dark space that he wanted, instead, he found himself in a empty small room. Everything was made of ice and yet the entire place scorched him. The walls, although cold and blue, emitted such intense heat that he could've been cooking in the fires of Hell– though ironically Hell was suppose to be cold– maybe he was in Hell, he had died from pneumonia and got sent to the place where all reprobates went. He looked around the room frantically, searching for a place that didn't blaze his skin, and set his eyes on a door, which, like the walls of the empty room, was completely sculpted from ice. The sweltering boy made his way to the door, glad to find an escape, but as quickly as he had reached for the door knob his hands withdrew, a searing pain went through them. The room became increasingly hotter with each attempt at opening the door, the burning sensation making its way up his arm, spreading through his entire body, paralyzing every limb, every organ including his lungs. Eventually the pain reached his head and it began to throb painfully, each thump stronger, making it feel like his head would explode. He stared at the door knob, desperately, his hands were no longer able to reach for it. His entire body stood there, frozen yet it felt like he was burning away and, as soon as they fell, his tears froze, leaving scorching marks on his face. Knowing his immobility, he gave up, the breathing becoming harder, and accepted what was to come next. He thought he'd just burn away, his thoughts just eventually stopping at some point, but as he closed his eyes in defeat, the door clicked open, a cool breeze gently touched his head, making the throbbing and burning lessen. He gained mobility, slowly feeling each finger come back under his control, and reached for the door knob, cautiously, again. His hand gripped around the ice that no longer burned him and he slowly opened the door.

Walking through the door was like walking out of his dream, nightmare more like it, and soon he found himself laying in a familiar make-shift bed. Sweat soaked through the sheets and the remnant of the burning pain left him too weak to move. As he opened his eyes, the morning sunshine reached him and he knew that he was back in the junkyard, in Eustass Kid's secret base. As if the realization of his surroundings made the pain come back, he realized the fever consuming his entire body and the suffocating resuming from his dream.

"You're awake." Kid's voice sounded like a stranger's. The younger boy lifted the older into a sitting position, his hand keeping the cold rag on his forehead in place. As the sick boy sat up properly, Kid took away the rag, bringing back the heat that the blonde had temporarily been relieved of, and put food in front of him.

"Here. It'll make you feel better." A stranger's voice, too worried and sincere to belong to the red haired brat.

The patient obeyed, not having enough energy to ate as Eustass Kid sat down beside him.

There was tension in the air but the blonde couldn't focus on it due to his sick state. He was surprised by the familiar, penetrating voice that had been trying to form words in the younger boy's mouth.

"L-listen! Life is… um… you knowas we grow up, we learn that life is a let down. You'll have your heart broken and you'll break others' hearts and um… You'll fight with your best friend or maybe even fall in love with them. Life comes with no guarantees, and no second chances. you just have to live life to the fullest, tell people off, occasionally flip them off and then in the end it doesn't matter how many breaths you took but…" He trailed off as the words lost their meaning in the muddled sentence he spoke. "Ok listen! When life gives you a hundred reasons to cry then you should make lemonade… or something."

The blonde couldn't help smiling a little at Kid's attempt to impart words of wisdom. A silence dawned as Kid sat there, forehead wrinkled, deep in thought. The sick boy watched through hazy half-lidded eyes as the furrow and frown deepened. He opened his mouth, then closed it, opened it again, trying to form words before they actually came out.

"Listen." He said in a different stranger's voice, this one too mature for an eight year old. "I know life sucks, your parents abandoned you and you're forced to live on you own when you can't even walked properly. I know that it feels like dying would be better than the painful hunger or cold loneliness that you constantly feel, but it's better to live. Prove to the world that it couldn't kill you off before your time." He stopped. The words slowly filtered through the receiver's mind and as they did the older boy realized the truth behind it, making the words all the more sincere and the voice that spoke all the more wise.

The blonde couldn't help staring at this mysterious boy in awe. There was more to his few years than just being an orphan. The young child looked up, making eye contact, realizing the intent stare from the older boy. He flustered, the red evident on his very pale skin.

"J-just don't die! I command you!" He shouted before getting up and running out of the room before the sick boy could even call out to him. As the sound of small footsteps faded, memories of what had been said yesterday before he passed out rushed through his head.

_Let me die._

The thought was no longer as appealing as it seemed when he first thought it, especially after what Kid had said – a conversation the blonde now knew the reason for. He had a new found respect for the small boy. Although Kid was troublesome and annoying, the boy had a deeper, more dormant disposition that made Eustass Kid more than just a lonely orphan. The lost, older orphan boy felt a twinge of guilt for everything that he had assumed about and said to Kid, because the child just told him he mattered. Or at least he implied it.

He laid back down, closing his eyes, wanting to go back to sleep because the fever and pain still occupied his body, but the pain and especially the thoughts of the little mysterious boy with bright red hair kept him awake. Who was the orphan really? What had really happened in his past? The questions kept coming and going until hours passed, daylight faded, and the sounds of little footsteps could be heard coming into the room.

The blonde kept his eyes closed, listening intently to the light treads– so quiet as not to disturb the sleeping boy– as they came closer. A cold cloth was laid across the "sleeping" boy's forehead, immediately absorbing the uncomfortable heat.

"I know you don't like me." Came a whispered voice. "but you're really sick and you should stay here for awhile… at least until you get better."

The blonde could feel Kid's sincerity, mystery only seemed to shroud the boy more, and he couldn't help the question from escaping his throat.

"Why do you care so much?" His voice cracked, groggy and weak.

If Kid was surprised by the other's pretense of sleep, he didn't show it, instead he replied in the oddly mature voice that wasn't his.

"Because it hurts being helpless and not be, well, helped." There was a momentary pause before the Kid spoke again, his voice all the more strange yet couldn't be spoken by anyone other than the little demon child of Kiyoshi Island. "What I mean is I know how it feels: the searing fever, the excruciating pain of hunger, being on the verge of dying and yet when you reach out, no one's there. So that's why…"

The sick boy didn't reply. He couldn't. He was at a lost for words. The layers of mystery wrapped around a small undernourished boy slowly peeled away, revealing the fighter hidden beneath it and the profound bitter and harsh history that created this ironically considerate yet callous Eustass Kid. The older boy understood more, now, the pain and reasoning for Kid's kindness towards him, yet his cruelty and hatred towards others that weren't so helpless, and, oddly, he felt glad that someone worried about him.

. . .

The next few days went by quite fast, passed mostly in sleep. The two children didn't talk much after the first day. That one meaningful moment had faded and the awkward tension from the older's previous rejection of Kid's proposal affected their interactions. A week passed before the blonde finally recovered.

"So… I guess you're leaving then." Kid stated, though it was more of a question than anything. The blonde, who just finished making the bed, turned and looked at the child that stood next to him. Again, the older boy couldn't help noticing how small Kid was. The one who took care of him for the past few days disappeared and a little boy, that was a head and a half shorter, stood looking at him.

"Yeah… thanks for everything." He paused, before adding. "Kid."

The older turned towards the door, making his way to leave.

"Wait!" The voice shouted from behind him.

"Yes?" He turned back around to look at Kid.

"Um.. I never got your name."

Realizing that what Kid said was true, the blonde stood paralyzed, thinking yet not really thinking about anything. He had gone without a name for so long that he just refer to himself as "the lost boy" as if he were just an onlooker. Nobody called for him and even if they did, he never responded. He never thought about picking a new name or that he would need one anytime soon. He thought for awhile, but his mind ran aimlessly, searching yet not really searching. After many attempts at thinking of something, trying to form random syllables to create a name, he opened his mouth with only the truth able to come out.

"I don't um… have one." He didn't think that would be what he said, after all how hard could it be to lie to a kid? Easy. It should've been, he had done it his whole life and yet he couldn't lie to this kid, this one named Eustass Kid. Plus, when afternoon rolled around, he probably wouldn't remember the syllables he muttered in his weak, still recovering state.

"You can't not have one." The boy protested after recovering from his half-shock, half-disbelief.

"I can!" The older countered, much too defensively.

"Even I have a name and I'm not even sure if it's really my name." There was a sort of melancholy in his tone that made the blonde suspect that Kid knew more than people gave him credit for. The passing dejection on the boy's face disappeared and he asked in the annoying low voice of his. "Is your name really lame and you're just too embarrassed to tell me?" He questioned accusingly.

Kid was partially right.

"N-no!"

"Liar!" Kid fumed, his face matching the color of his hair. "Fine! I don't want to know anyways." He started pushing the blonde out the door. For a smaller boy, he was much stronger than he looked. He gave the blonde one last good shove out the door and slammed the rusted worn down door, though it didn't even close properly.

The blonde stared at the little broken down shack that he didn't think he had been staying in, having not really seen it his first time here. The roof was low and the windows gone, covered with tape and rotted wooden boards. He looked at the house that didn't seem to shelter anyone and shouted pointlessly: "I'm not lying," before walking away. What he said was true, at least to him. His name from a time so long ago wasn't his, and like the life he left behind, that name, too, was left behind. As he made his way to the town, where there was life, he couldn't help thinking that this was how their encounters always ended, with Kid fuming and running away, leaving the blonde dumbfounded.


	5. Worst Best Friend

**A/N:** Chapter 5! Anyways I'm kinda stuck so next chapter will come out... I don't know. I really enjoy writing Kid and Killer's story as children but at the same time I want to move on. So I'm working that out.

Anyways thanks for reading!

* * *

Days, once again, passed in blurs as the lost boy adjusted to his new surrounding. Getting food and finding shelter was easier now that the blonde had regained his strength. He spent minimal time anywhere other than downtown, trying his best to avoid Kid. He didn't despise the boy, he just couldn't stop the guilty feeling that took over when he looked at the small, undernourished child, like he had betrayed him or, worse, abandoned him, just like all the people living here. Today, though, was one of the days that the blonde decided to go to the forest, where Kid most likely was, wanting to re-challenge fishing. He woke up before dawn– he had found shelter in the large empty boxes that carried parts to the mechanics store earlier the day before– and slowly took the long walk towards the forest.

The lost was obviously his, the minute population of fish the river had seemed to have decreased in the last few weeks since he had first tried. After several attempts and methods, he gave up, lying down on the river bank, his feet dipped in the cold water. He wanted to close his eyes and rest a little before re-attempting the task when he heard screams coming from the town.

He shot up into a sitting position, the screams didn't come in intervals, instead, it was a continuous one that blended each individuals' cry into a single shriek of the town. Contrary to instinct, the boy got up and ran towards the town, not taking the obvious route, stopping just as he reached the edge of the forest that immediately transformed into the suburban neighborhood that also bordered the forest. He was shocked by what he saw: houses on fire, people running or holding onto to each other, kids wandering around aimlessly, looking for someone to explain what was happening, to protect them.

_Pirates!_

The boy started towards town when, suddenly, someone grab him from behind, covering his mouth. The captive struggled, fighting to break free when he realized how light and small his captor was.

"Calm down it's me." The well-acquainted voice whispered.

"whumm…mmhu?"

"Oh sorry."

Kid removed his small hands from the older's mouth and waited while he got his breathe back before speaking.

"It's not safe here, follow me!"

The blonde nodded not willing to argue in this situation.

"You can't take her!" The plea came from a boy about ten, holding on to his younger sister. The blonde turned and looked at the origin of the voice, the shocking sight paralyzed him, holding his gaze so tightly that he couldn't look away. The physical traits were so strikingly familiar as well as the vacant eyes that stared as the pirates ripped his sister away.

"Stop! She's only a child. Why can't you damn pirates see that?" The boy struggled to grasp onto his little sister, but his mother stopped him in his tracks, holding him, willing him to give up.

"You should listen to your mother brat. After all I'm being so kind. Even though you're 100,000 beli short I'm only taking your sister."

The boy looked down, away from his sister's pleading eyes, before a second shout came.

"Rosy!" Another boy, who had similar facial features and looked the same age as the previous, ran towards the pirate, shovel in hand, swinging it at the pirate, only to be knocked off his feet. His head collided with the hard ground and his body went limp. The mother gave a shrilled cry.

"Just take her and go!" She begged, not wanting to lose her sons as well.

The blonde stood there, shocked, out in the open several feet away from the scene. Then the voice came, shaking his arm.

"What are you doing? Hurry up before they see us!" Kid's tone was commanding and desperate. The effort felt futile when the blonde didn't so much as glance at him, attempting to be heard, he was about to give the older another shake when he spoke.

"I have to save her." the blonde said so quietly and distant that Kid felt it wasn't directed at him.

"What? Are you crazy? Her own mother abandoned her. She's a lost cause." He yelled in a hushed voice, his words seemingly falling on deaf ears. Irritated, Kid tugged on the blonde's arm so hard that the older fell and his eyes became level with the smaller boy's. "What did she ever do for you?" Kid said so seriously in that strange mature voice that only seemed to become more and more foreign to the older boy each time he heard it. The pirates had left by now and were almost out of sight. Without responding or even a second thought, the blonde pulled free from the small hands that gripped him tightly and followed after the dust trail that were signs of where the pirates had tread.

"Nothing! She's done nothing for you!" Kid yelled after him as the blonde ran desperately after something that could free him from his guilt, or so that's what he believed. As he got closer to the port, he slowed his pace, not wanting to be caught. After all did he really think he could take on a whole pirate crew? Once he got to the port, he realized that there was no ship docked there and started looking around frantically. He had lost sight of the pirates as he made his way through the chaos that was downtown and although, here, the streets were less hectic, he couldn't spot his target.

_The beach_.

Pirates had have to have a ship and if it wasn't docked in the port, then the beach was the only other option. He ran through the port, making his way to the west side of the island where the docks slowly transitioned into rocks and then finally he arrived at the beach.

It was almost evening, standing watch for two hours, he waited for the right time to put his quickly thought up plan into action. He was smart and calculating, years of experience had taught him in that way, he didn't want to burst in there suddenly and be caught himself or most likely _killed_. Though the boy didn't care so much about his life– even after listening to Kid– as long as he could save the girl. He didn't really understand his true need to rescue her, being driven by some unknown force, and yet he didn't stop to question anything, all concentration focused on his plans.

"Weren't you going to save her?"

The blonde started, not realizing that the red headed boy had snuck up behind him.

"What are you doing here?" He turned and questioned the younger child, his tone sharp, yet spoken mostly out of concern.

"I was just making sure you didn't get yourself killed." The younger boy responded, trying to hush his rising voice that spoke out defensively.

"I'm perfectly fine." The older sighed. "I'm smart."

"Well you're not very smart consi-"

"Shh!"

The blonde clamped his hands over Kid's face, his hands, much larger than the younger's, almost covering his entire face.

"The pirates will hear us."

Kid nodded with understanding, and the blonde removed his hands.

"Why?" Kid asked.

"Why what? The older replied without looking at the boy.

"Why save her?" He asked, paused to think before adding: "do you like her?"

The older only looked at the boy next to him, his expression clearly confused and disapproving of the words Kid had spoken.

"Well, you know, they say people do crazy things for love and what not." He added in his defense.

The blonde only shook his head, denying the claim.

"No." He said quietly. "I don't even know her."

"Then why?"

"Because…." He struggled to explain his reasoning to a child. "Because I have to, alright?" There was a silence and the blonde wanted to leave to put his plans, which he had been momentarily distracted from, into action.

As he slowly got up, Kid spoke again.

"Does it have to do with your apologizing?"

It was an innocent question really, but it took the blonde by surprise, he didn't think the red-haired boy would remembered or had actually paid attention to what he had said that day and, unconsciously, he rethought his assessment of Kid, that the boy had more perception than the blonde gave him credit for.

"Yeah… Something like that." He replied honestly, unsure what his real motives were. Sure, he was probably hoping that saving her would bring some sort of forgiveness, but he had thought that he dismissed the idea as foolish, or maybe he was just doing this for himself, to _prove_ that he wasn't such a terrible person.

There was a pause that only seemed to drag on as the two sat there looking, but not really looking, at everything but each other. Kid opened his mouth–

_Bam._

The two kids whipped their heads towards the origin of the blast. To his horror, the blonde boy saw that the pirates had lined up the prisoners, blowing their brains out one by one as the others watched, their fear and terror increasing as another fell down dead. The blonde cursed, Kid's distraction had stopped him from carrying out his plans and now he had to come up with something else.

Blood and brain splattered everywhere, turning the sandy beach into a blood soaked shore. Even with all the screaming and blood, the twelve year old boy realized that he didn't feel nauseous or even fazed by the sight of blood. When he turned to make sure the younger boy by his side was alright, he was surprised by the uninterested stare of the eight year old with the corners of his mouth turned up so slightly it looked as if he were smiling, as if relishing at the sight of the dying townspeople. The blonde continued to look at the boy, paralyzed, the words "demon child" rang in his mind.

"See they have guns." Kid said after a while, bringing the older boy out of his paralysis. "You'd be better off not saving anyone." The dark, almost sadistic, undertone to the child's voice sent shivers down the blonde's spine, though he didn't show it and tried to calmly reply.

"Listen" the blonde sighed "We're not friends so you don't need to worry about what I do."

Without waiting for the smaller boy to respond, the blonde got up, an urgency in his step. Tactics and strategies were thrown out the window as he saw the pirates shoot their way down the line, approaching the little girl that stood traumatized at the end.

"Wait! You're going to get killed!" The boy's voice echoed, getting more distant each second.

The older didn't know what he was thinking, clearly he _wasn't_ thinking_, at all._ He ran towards the shooter, surprising even the criminals that didn't react fast enough to stop him from connecting his foot to the executor's temple, a vital spot as he had learned from previous clashes. The man fell down, knocked unconscious.

"Captain!" The members shouted, and before the boy could save the damsel, all pistols were aimed at him. At this point, instinct took over and the boy dove to the side, bullets flew and pirates fell as each shot their own comrades while trying to hit the brat. The boy continued to evade, bullets grazing him, leaving small burning pains. The task was impossible but no matter what, he wanted to save the girl, he _needed_ to save the girl. He couldn't even question why and how because animal instinct was the only thing operating and keeping him alive as he tried his hardest to fight these pirates. They weren't, fortunately, a large crew and the earlier stray bullets had taken out a few, but he was just a kid. Although he had fought before and although he was stronger than normal children his age, he just couldn't compare with ten or eleven burly sailors of the sea. Guns were tossed away as their ammo ran out and swords were unsheathed, metal slicing the air, being swung at the boy.

Catching the blonde off guard, one pirate took a big swing at him. The blonde barely dodged, moving close towards the pirate, punching upward aiming for the man's throat, another vital point, incapacitating him.

Warm blood slowly trickled down the boy's face as he tried to catch his breath. He looked around frantically, ready to defend against the numerous pirates that still stood, though, to his relief, he saw a lot had been knocked down already, others with their attention on something else. The slight sigh of relief he made was a mistake. With the girl only a few feet away, trying to get away though her feet were bound, he felt a blunt object strike his head. His vision blurred and he fell to the ground, before he could recover he heard the _click_ of a gun. He looked up only to be faced with the barrel of a pistol.

"Brat, who do you think you are to go against an entire pirate crew?" said the angry pirate, his head was bruised where the boy had kicked him earlier. "I'm Captain Barbarossa, 19,000,000 beli bounty on my head. I won't be taken out by a damn child!"

The gun was shot. His eyes didn't close instead they watched as the bullet was released from the gun, entranced. Time seemed to slow down: the pirates, the voices, the bullet, and his impending doom. This experience felt different from that one night; this time he knew he was going to die. His mind was in so much chaos that it took him a while before he realized that the bullet _was_ slowing.

"Repel!"

The bullet flew back, towards the shooter, knocking the man to the ground. The shocked boy immediately got back to his feet, ready to fight, when he turned he saw Kid, standing right behind him with the rest of the pirates laying on the ground, metal pieces stuck out of their bodies and blood pooled beneath them.

"Stupid! You really have a death wish don't you!?"

The blonde was too stunned to rebuke the comment.

"D-did you do that?" He said, the words barely escaped his mouth.

The red headed boy didn't respond, only grabbing the older's wrist and pulling him back towards town.

"Wait." The blonde shook his wrist free from Kid. "The girl." He pointed at the child, tied up, lying on the ground. She had fainted at some point during the conflict.

"I'm still standing!" said the enraged voice. The two turned their attention to the captain who towered over them, clutching his bleeding eye, blade held high in the air, ready to strike.

"Watch out!" Kid's voice cried.

The same animal instincts that had been keeping him alive earlier took over immediately, except this time he didn't dodge, he _couldn't_ dodge, not with a certain child behind him. Without even turning to look, he grabbed a sword and plunged it deep into the pirate's heart, pushing the pirate backwards before releasing his grip.

The captain staggered before finally falling. Everything was drowned out with the sound of his fast beating heart and the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Unlike the moment he killed his father, this feeling was different… it was _good_.

_"-rry"_

He couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to replay the moment over and over again.

_"-ning?!"_

It was terrifying yet exhilarating at the same time

"Hey!"

The blonde snapped out his trance and looked at Kid.

"Let's leave before the townspeople get here."

The blonde followed compliantly before he remembered.

"The girl."

_"_Leave her! The others will find her." Kid tugged on the older's shirt, slowly dragging him away from the scene as the older looked sympathetically at the small girl. She was, unfortunately, the only villager that hadn't been shot. Trauma and shock were the only things that awaited for her when she woke up, _if_ she woke up.

They reached the river before the older boy pulled away from Kid, causing him to turn and look. The blonde replayed the scenes in his head, trying to organized everything in his head. He stared intently at the little boy before him who returned his gaze, a stern countenance on the smaller's face.

"How did you do that?" the blonde asked, remembering the bullet and the bodies that laid in a pool of blood.

Kid opened his mouth as if about to answer, but then closed it, a smile stretching across his face– not the impossibly large smile that made him look oddly adorably, but a sly one that meant he was scheming something.

"Why should I tell you?" He said nonchalantly. "Only my best friend can know my secrets." He turned, looking away from the older boy as if he was half-pouting and half-gloating.

The blonde didn't respond, he didn't know how to, even though he did feel guilty about refusing Kid, he still knew he couldn't accept the offer, he _just couldn't_.

"Listen… Kid." He didn't know if he was saying his name or just referring to him. "I already told you…" He trailed off, knowing that Kid knew what he was going to say. The silence from the boy made him feel all the more guilty and he tried to recover.

"I wouldn't be a good friend. I'd be terrible at it." The statement, although spoken to appease the child, held some truth. He never had or had been a friend. Not even knowing what to do or how to act, he couldn't possibly be anyone's friend.

"Is that your reasoning?" Kid turned back around, his half-gloating, half-pouting was gone; now he was just scowling. "I thought you said you were "smart," but obviously you're just stupid."

"What did you say?" The blonde felt pissed at the smaller's rude remark.

"I've never had friends either." Kid was so serious that the blonde's anger immediately dissipated. "It's ok if you're a bad friend." Kid paused, stretching out his arms as if presenting a great idea. "You can be my worst best friend! It's better than nothing right?"

"Worst best friend huh?"

The title sounded contradicting and yet it made the blonde smile.

_Maybe_ came the thought.

"We should shake on it or something. That's what real men do." Kid stated eagerly even though the blonde boy didn't give his answer.

_Yet_.

"Eustass Kid, eight years old." He stuck out his hand to the older boy.

"I told you I don't…" He trailed off, looking away.

"Killer." He whipped his head back around, looking at the boy.

"What?" He asked confused.

"Killer. That's your name." Kid said with a smug grin as if he had picked a really spectacular name. "After the killing you did tonight."

"Oh." The older boy, now Killer, didn't give it much thought.

"Killer, twelve years old." He reached out and shook the hand that hadn't dropped, still pondering the name. Surprisingly, the younger boy's grip was strong and firm, even though his hand was much smaller than the older boy's.

"Let's go back to the base then." Kid ran off, leaving Killer to chase after him.

As he ran behind the small frame, he could feel the corner of his mouth pulling into a sort of half smile.

_Killer_.

The name was so ironic yet it wasn't bad. It would be a name he'd remember and even if he didn't, he now had someone to remind him.

The events of the night flashed through his mind and it suited him, he thought, the memories continuing to go through his mind, even if the smaller boy did more killing than him tonight, he pictured the bodies lying on the ground, _or at least this time_.


	6. Budding Friendship

**A/N**: Finally kicked myself hard enough to update this! I was reluctant about writing this chapter, hope it turned out ok! Next chapter won't take toooo long I hope. I love writing Kid and Killer's story as children but a lot of them are irrelevant to the story so I might make a separate short story collection thing for them or just try to squeeze thirteen years into one chapter. I'll see how my brain wants to work.

Thanks for reviewing!

* * *

The town spent the next two weeks cleaning up the beach, burying the dead and mourning for lost ones, but soon after everyone moved on because no one can mourn forever. And so the world continued to turn as Icarus fell and drowned.

Killer, as he was currently called, now lived with Kid in the little broken down shack at the junkyard. He discovered that the house only had one room as the two doors, he had earlier assumed to be other rooms, led out into the open. What he was assumed to be the kitchen was an area with a tin roof, no walls, covering broken kitchen appliances, running on batteries that barely had enough power to light a light bulb for more than three hours. The place he assumed as the bathroom couldn't even be anything, the door leading straight into the open where metal barrels and other junk laid. Although not much, Killer found that he liked the place and soon it became a familiar and comfortable home for him, even Kid became familiar.

The new friendship was odd to both the boys. Kid mostly– probably– because he's never had a friend, and that reason also applied to Killer, but the latter felt something else that created a sort of wall between the two. Although Kid always talked and clung onto Killer, the older had a hard time conversing with the younger, mostly keeping to himself. He wasn't really a friend– even though he didn't really know what a friend was. He was, if anything, more of a caretaker, constantly making sure Kid did this or Kid did that and occasionally sighing disappointedly when Kid ignored his warnings about doing dangerous things. Wasn't he suppose to join in when his friend did something stupid? Yet he just watched as Kid, inevitably, hurt himself. He never scolded the younger boy though, not wanting to argue or start a fight as he thought friends shouldn't. Also, the constant guilt that always bordered on his mind continued to trouble him and he couldn't shake the thought that this was a _mistake_.

In the past few weeks, Killer learnt a lot about the boy that was now his friend. Apparently Kid had eaten a devil fruit some time as a wandering baby and gained magnetic abilities, though Kid's explanation was confusing and Killer mostly figured it out himself when Kid showed him, but in light of the information, Killer also found out the villagers didn't just hate or ignore the red head, they _feared_ him. His abilities and very short temper made a destructive combination that the townspeople couldn't defend themselves against. He never touched the topic yet, subconsciously, Killer understood that fear.

After the first day, Killer, to his embarrassment, was banned from the kitchen. He didn't think cooking would be so hard, but it just made him respect the younger boy all the more for his, although Killer didn't want to admit it, pretty decent cooking.

In a week, Killer got to know the ways around the junkyard, all the secret routes and secret hideouts, even– the younger had gladly shown the older– Kid's secret _secret_ hideout, his "workshop" as he liked to call it, where he kept a few things that he had built: a robot toy, traps, objects for pranks– to Killer's disbelief all were very well-made– and even unique weapons, which surprised the blonde boy. Kid also showed his friend around the forest, showing him the edible fruit, and taught him how to fish. The secret being that the fish mostly hid in the deeper, colder areas of the still river and so string and bait was need instead of Killer's failed attempts with spears and bare hands, though the older boy should have known. After learning the fact, Killer, being the fast learner he is, started bringing home more fish that could feed both the boys until they were full.

Although content that they had full stomachs, Killer craved the man-made goods that couldn't be found in a forest because that was all he ever ate and drastically dropping a diet he had grown up with was difficult.

"I wouldn't mind having some ice cream right now." Killer said mindlessly one day. It was a hot day, as usual in South Blue, and although the roof over their heads shaded them, there was no air conditioning. So the two boys laid there on the floor, sweating, too hot to do anything.

"What's that?" Kid inquired, sitting up to look at the older boy.

Killer looked up to see the younger's inquiring eyes.

"It's this cold, sweet food. It's really good. Comes in different flavors." Killer smiled at the boy, it wasn't hard smiling as it was back then, in fact, it came naturally to him now, though he never gave a big grin, just a small half-smile.

"Where can we find it? Does it come from some special tree?" Kid beamed, ready for some kind of outlandish adventure. Killer chuckled to himself. Although Kid knew the difference between a poisonous berry and an edible one and how to fix the broken down appliances that made the kitchen, his upbringing caused him to be oblivious about things that normal kids definitely knew of.

"You have to buy it at an ice cream shop. I saw one downtown." Killer told the curious boy.

Kid thought long and hard, the excitement slowly draining from his face.

"I don't want it." He said after awhile.

"I thought you were excited about it." Killer raised an eyebrow, sitting up.

"We don't have money." Kid replied in a louder voice as if he didn't want to hear any more of it.

"We can just sell some fish and get enough money to split one." Killer reasoned, placing his hand on the other's shoulder, thinking Kid was only mad at the idea of not being able to eat the cold dessert.

"No!" Kid yelled, hitting Killer in an attempt to brush him off. "Sorry." He immediately said, withdrawing his hands, looking guiltily at the swelling he had caused.

"It's ok." The blonde spoke, trying not to fight with his friend. "Really Kid, it's ok. I don't want to eat ice cream either." He lied back down with Kid following in suit and they remained silent, the heat being too much.

Although Kid had already grown up– or rather been forced to grow up– he was still a child and Killer couldn't help feeling sympathetic for the younger. He had never eaten any sort of dessert or sweet, he'd never slept in a real bed with pillows, he'd never played with other kids– even Cleland had somewhat played with other Celestial children back then– and he had never been to school.

_Can he read and write? _Killer thought as the two continued to lie in silence. There was always more to find out about Kid.

Although Killer really didn't mind not eating ice cream, Kid brought it up two days after.

"I want ice cream." The boy stated casually as if the previous argument never happened.

Killer looked curiously at the smaller boy. Did Kid feel bad about what happened? Or did curiosity get to him?

"Sure." He replied after a long pause.

They made their way to downtown, hauling a few fish they caught at the river.

"No" was the only answer they got as the man turned them away.

"It's fresh! we caught it only a few minutes ago." Kid yelled at the owner.

"Scram kid." The man gave the boy a dismissive wave.

"Listen here!" Kid yelled, the metal around him rattling.

"Kid! Stop." Killer pulled the younger away, quelling the clattering metals.

"Yeah, get out of here monster." The man muttered as the two walked away.

Killer felt pissed and he started to understand why Kid refused to come here in the first place. He looked at the younger who walked by his side.

"It's alright Kid. Let's just go home."

The red head nodded without looking or uttering a word to his companion and the two started heading home, passing through, first, the bigger neighborhoods and then the suburban area.

Killer sensed it coming, pushing Kid out of the way as the rock collided with his forehead.

"The monster made a friend." Came an annoying child's voice, followed by laughter.

"Oi." Killer turned to reprimand the children, clutching his now swollen forehead, but before he could say anything, he felt the weird magnetism, making his hair stand up, that accompanied Kid's metal abilities.  
"Kid! Stop!" He grabbed the younger boy's arm, shaking him out of his rage. The few metal objects stopped, dropping to the floor.

"The monster's going to attack!" The brats yelled, throwing more rocks at the two boys before running away.  
Kid pulled out of Killer's loose grip, walking away.

"Kid." Killer whispered, following the boy.

The rest of the walk back was silent, and Kid kept his head down the entire way back. The sight made Killer guilty and he knew he shouldn't have said anything back then.

"Let's treat the wounds." He said softly, putting his hand on the boy's back, when they reached the broken down shack.

"I hate the town" was all Kid muttered before running into the house, covering himself with the blanket and staying there until he fell asleep.  
Killer treated the younger boy's wounds while the latter snored away. It was times like this that Killer truly saw Kid as a kid. Although he knew the little boy to be strong, he was still only eight– though he seemed much younger– and, lying there covered with bruises, he looked fragile and the sight pissed Killer off.

How could anyone treat a child this way? Killer thought, rage building up inside, but it quickly diminished when the answer came: _I did_.  
The face of the dirty slave girl flashed through his mind and he started to fear. Fear that he hadn't gotten away from it at all: the cruelty, the brutality, the inhumaneness, the _monsters_.

"I'll try again tomorrow." He whispered softly to the child, feeling stupid– it was just ice cream– but the fact that he was denied such simple treat made him more angry and more determined to get what he wanted, not just for himself but for Kid too.

. . .

The sun shone intensely like it always did, and, unlike the other days, Kid continued to sleep soundly as Killer left to go back to town. Making his way to the town, he started questioning his actions. It was stupid. All this for ice cream? Maybe it was because he was denied such a stupid, simple treat that he felt so determined, so angry.

Thinking the attempt to sell fish wasn't going to work for him, he decided to pickpocket people as he passed by them on the street. Oddly, he didn't feel bad about it, especially after what happened yesterday.

With the money he stole, he made his way to the ice cream store. Funny how a want for a sweet treat has turned into a sort of vendetta.

He walked to the store, opening the glass door. The small bell rang as he got inside and walked to the counter.

"Two swirls." He asked, his voice a monotone.

The shop owner stared at him, looking him up and down.

"You're the new kid that runs with the red head." He stated, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"What of it?" Killer retorted, trying to hide the agitation in his voice.

The store owner continued to glare at the boy, eventually shifting his gaze to the money on the countertop.

"That's only enough for one." He stated condescendingly like the boy didn't know simple math.

"Then I'll have _one_." Killer said, trying to keep his voice even.

The store owner handed him the ice cream, less than expected, though Killer didn't say anything. He got what he wanted and that was enough.

He made his way back to the run-down shack, trying to walk as fast as he could without running. The hot South Blue weather was already melting the soft treat.

Too preoccupied with the dessert, Killer wasn't aware until the rock hit him square in the nose.

He fumbled and fell, dropping his treat and landing on his back.

He just laid there, the wind knocked out of him, nothing going through his mind but the indistinct feeling of rage.

"Did you drop your ice cream?" One of the boys asked in a mocking baby voice, pouting like a child. The others around him bursting into laughter.

The laughter continued as the beating started. Killer instinctively brought his arms up to cover his face, just in time as the boot connected. Dust flew into his eyes and mouth. At one point one of the children– the oldest– got on top of him and started punching. It hurt. Not so much physically as emotionally. The punches and kicks were weak, after all they were children, but the jeers, the outnumbering, and the melting swirl on the sandy road was what stabbed at his heart.

_Was this how it was for Kid?_

No wonder Kid had with the bad attitude he had. This whole thing was bullshit.

_Bullshit_ was all that went through Killer's mind. He felt so angry yet numb at the same time, hoping that it would be over soon and they would all just leave.

"Leave him alone!" Kid's small fist connected with the oldest boy's jaw and made an audibly crunch noise as the bully fell back.

"Why you!?" The boy recovered, but suddenly stopped short as he stared at Kid. "C-come on. Let's leave." The boy stuttered, his hands shaking ever so slightly. Killer felt dizzy but he still questioned how the others followed along so obediently. He looked up at Kid, but couldn't see the smaller boy's face.

"Kid." The words came out hoarse.

"Let's get you back to the base." Kid said, that strange mature voice sounding in Killer's ears. He threw Killer's arms over his shoulder and, surprisingly, hauled the older to his feet with sheer strength. Kid walked back to the hideout, dragging Killer slowed him down.

"I don't like ice cream anyway." Kid mutter softly. "Sweets are for girls."

As they walked in, Kid tried to help Killer gently sit on their makeshift bed.

"I'll help treat your wounds." He tried to say with an even voice, but Killer could hear the panic in the younger boy's tone. After all Kid was the only one that ever needed treating, and he probably had never treated anybody's wound before. Killer watched as the boy stumbled around, wondering what to do.

"Clean the wounds first." Killer stated calmly. He didn't feel alarmed at all. The wounds were minor, a little bleeding here and there, but nothing fatal; they weren't even that deep. Kid nodded, running outside to get a damp cloth.

He returned later, rushing towards Killer and making an audible thump as he sat next to him. He started wiping the dirt and little blood around the wound before dabbing the wound gently, hesitantly, afraid he'll make the wound worse.

"Has it always been like this?" Killer muttered softly to Kid as the boy treated the wounds as best as he could.

"The people here are just rotten." He stated bitterly. There was long pause before Kid opened his mouth, seemingly hesitant about the topic.

"It wasn't that she couldn't pay for her daughter, she just refused." Kid said, not looking at Killer, all focus concentrated on healing the older's injuries.

"How do you know?" Killer asked, no skepticism in his voice, knowing exactly who Kid spoke of.

Kid gave the older boy a quick glance before looking away again, taking a deep breath as if he was about to go underwater.

"She and her husband were slave traders." He didn't wait for the blonde to respond before continuing. "Their salary, in addition to their stingy way of living, is enough to buy her daughter's freedom."

"But the father's been gon-" Killer caught himself, swallowing hard. The memories of the man that changed his life flashed through his mind. Could the man really have been a slave trader? After all he seemed so genuine when he held the knife ove- Killer swallowed hard again, pushing the memories away and returning his focus back to Kid, who seemed to have not noticed his slip up.

"Yeah but it's only been two years." Kid stated matter-of-factly. "With the amount of money they earned they could live comfortably with their family of five for several years and still have enough money left over." Killer was a little doubtful at the amount– seemed a little exaggerated– though it seemed Kid noticed because the boy defended his intel. "I hear the shop owners talk about it."

Still, Killer didn't believe it. 'It' being that the man, who defended a small slave girl, was nothing but a slave trader who karma had the pleasure of dealing with. The man had _threatened_ a Celestial Dragon, and surely he wasn't just thinking of himself when he did, but then again, _maybe he was_. Death was far better than being a slave forever or maybe being at that lowest point in his life drove him to do something good.

It was sad, really. That man's goodness only showed through when they were driven into a corner or when there were rewards given– though that wouldn't be called goodness then– but that was just the world they lived in. Pirates were bad, but society was inhumane.

. . .

The wounds healed in less than a week and everything went back to normal or as normal as it was before. Though he still missed the luxurious food from town, Killer didn't talk about it again. The mere thought of the ice cream incident made his blood boil.

It was another sunny day, but the wind brought a nice salty breeze from the ocean. Killer laid on the ground, staring up at the blue sky, decorated with birds going to and fro.

"Here." Kid placed a plate next to the boy.

Killer turned to see a steaming plate, deciding to get up for a better look.

"It's something they eat in the town right?" Kid said, trying to hold back a grin.

Killer looked at the dish placed by him: aglio e oglio, fancy for their poor life style.

"How did you…" He looked at the boy.

The red head gave his friend a sly smile.

"Secret."

The noodles didn't have any fancy toppings on it, just garlic and oil, and yet the simple dish tasted so good that Killer wouldn't mind if this was all they ate.

"Thanks." He muttered to his friend, his cheeks flushing a little.


End file.
